


Red Sky at Night

by Batagur



Series: The Charmed Ship [4]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28080744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batagur/pseuds/Batagur
Summary: The Sea Witches Rope: magical rope that can be tied in three knots to control the wind and the currents.The first item that needs to be liberated is in the hands of an excessively cruel captain of the British Royal Navy.  Captain David Booth graduated from Leeds at the same time as James Norrington, but from there, their lives were very different.  While James was meticulously climbing the ranks, Booth was a victim of his own poor judgment, stuck under the thumb of a commanding officer who valued him for what work he could steal from him.   But that changed one day on the docks of Surat when a cross-eyed old crone nearly crossed his path as he headed back to his ship. He stopped her before she could damage his luck any further.He was more fortunate than he could have guessed. She was a sea witch and she gave him a length of rope.  When tied in certain knots in certain combinations, it could control the winds over the waves.  It was after this incident that Booth’s fortunes changed and he quickly took the command of his former captain’s ship, the HMS Stalwart, after his unfortunate demise in a tremendous cyclone that hit with very little warning.
Relationships: James Norrington/Jack Sparrow
Series: The Charmed Ship [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/50133
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Tortuga

~Tortuga~  
~*~  
 _It is my birthday, and although I know not a single soul on board the Black Pearl is aware of this, I still intend to celebrate in the privacy of my own thoughts. I dare not tell Jack, for he would insist upon some outrageous drunken revelry in this already too debauched town. That is not my idea of a pleasant celebration._

  
_A satisfying dinner and excellent company is enough for me. I have devised this by purchasing a good chicken for roasting, which cookie readily agreed to do. For an extra shilling on his share, he promised me a grand feast. As for the company, my dear captain Jack will more than suffice. His drunken, careless rogue persona is only a front, I assure you, for an intelligent and pragmatic man. Over these many months, I have found his company more than satisfactory. His wit, when he chooses to be keen, is impressive. His powers of reasoning are formidable and his grasp of details can be simply staggering. He is a poet at times and a dreamer at other times. He is a force of will when he desires to be and the very quintessence of compassion when it is most sorely needed._

_He is a lover and a friend, obviously. But he is also the intellectual equal that I had always desired in a mate. He is the free spirit I had greatly desired as well. Within him is a compelling soul, more perfect in refinement, discernment and shrewdness than the most cultured gentleman of highest birth. He hides that away very well, but it becomes evident at the most unthought-of moments. He is a gentleman-pirate._

_But please, for all that is holy, never tell him I said any of that._  
~*~  
James had the table in the grand cabin set with a linen table cloth and nice china plates, the expensive type that had graced fancier tables than that aboard a pirate ship. He was not surprised to hear that the Pearl had this dishware as part of some long forgotten plunder. He charged Mr. Pintel with retrieving it and cleaning it up for the evening. The tarnished silverware was shined by a pair of lazy deckhands who were unfortunate enough to have Mr. James catch them dallying about when they should have been on the fore deck with oakum. They could have caught hell with “the Commodore”, but Mr. James was in a magnanimous mood. Normally they would have earned some memorable bilge duty.

This would do. A couple of men brought up platters from the galley; one held a divinely roasted, golden brown chicken that even appeared to be garnished with almonds and bread crumbs. The smell of the entrée filled the cabin with a rich, delightful aroma that actually brought a smile to James’ lips. This dinner promised to be excellent indeed.

****  
It had been excellent… two hours ago. Now the dinner was cold, but James was hot. Angry did not begin to sufficiently describe the emotion boiling his blood at that moment. He had sent several crewmen out to search some of Jack’s favorite Tortuga taverns. Most came back professing defeat. A few came back drunk. Those poor individuals did little to help the mood of ‘the commodore.’ These unfortunate men would later be held responsible for the series of hull scrapings the whole crew were set to task with in the weeks ahead.

At last, James himself stepped down the gang plank and on to the docks of Tortuga. He had not anticipated that he would step foot ashore for this entire stop. Now he looked about himself at the street ahead that teamed with chaos and harlots. His eyes narrowed against the smoke of trash fires and he felt his scowl deepened on his face. With unblinking authority, he pulled forth the compass that was lashed to his belt. He opened it and peered at the needle, his nostrils flaring in displeasure. He snapped the instrument shut and motioned for the two men with him to advance as he stepped forward into the mayhem.

****  
Giselle’s real name was Mary Kirby. She had left that name behind long ago when she stowed away on that merchant ship heading for the Americas. Her story was like many other working girls of Tortuga. Her education began on the merchant ship. She found herself servicing two sailors who kept her fed and hidden throughout the voyage. Once in Tortuga, she found her way into the house of Madame Colette. Madame Colette took on only the prettiest girls. Her standards were high and not just any sailor or buccaneer could cross her threshold.

The Madame gave Giselle her name and her clothing and her allowances to purchase rouges, perfumers, and feather combs for her lovely blonde hair. She also gave her strict orders to adhere to. One of which was: DO NOT EVER give it away for free; even to Jack Sparrow.

That was the hardest rule to follow, and not just for her but for many of the girls. Captain Jack Sparrow was just altogether too charming to resist. He was a cultured man with a honey tongue who could talk magic to everyone he encountered. The fun followed Jack Sparrow. Drinks flowed and laughter surrounded him. He was magic. There wasn’t a girl alive in all of Tortuga who didn’t want to be seen on the arm of Captain Jack Sparrow. He was worth a free tumble… most of the time. Even Madame was not immune to his charms. He could make the silk and lace covered proprietress giggle like a young grisette with only a tickle under her chin.

Nevertheless, the very next day, the magic was over and he was gone, and a girl was left with nothing to show for it but empty promises and a few less pieces of jewelry. Often times, the loss of jewelry came about when a girl offered it up as a trinket to remember her by.

When Giselle found out that Sparrow was in Tortuga again, she swore to steer clear of him. It was always her problem in the past that she would seek him out to give him a piece of her mind and a good hard slap. However, in such an agitated state was also when she was most vulnerable to his charms. Then the cycle would start over again.

Not this time. No. She was done with him.

“They say he’s taken up anyway,” Scarlett said in a purposely nonchalant tone. “You remember the pirate hunter? Some British toff called Norrington? The salts say they bewitched each other, they did. Now they are caught in their trap and devoted to only each other.”

Another girl, a younger girl named Gabriella laughed. She was far too new to understand the ways of the buccaneers. “What man is able to resist one of the Madame’s ladies?”

“Jack Sparrow,” a chorus of women said. Surprising themselves, they began to giggle… except Giselle.

Giselle was thinking. Sparrow was bewitched by the old pirate hunter now? It seemed strangely fitting. They said that the one-time pirate hunter of Port Royal, Commodore James Norrington, had been almost like a cursed sea warlock, able to run any pirate to ground that he set his sights on. The salts had told stories of him before his fall a few years back. And his fall had been at the hands of Jack Sparrow.

Magic to magic, two legends of the Caribbean had cancelled each other out. Giselle had never seen Norrington before, but had pictured him as some stern, middle-aged gentleman with a steely gaze. She had found out much later from others that he had been a younger man with sea green eyes and a perfectly pretty face. It had made sense then to Giselle that Sparrow had been tempted by the pretty. It was his only weakness.

“He won’t resist me,” Gabriella said with the throaty laugh of a professional.

“Don’t waste your time, luv,” Scarlett replied soberly. “Jack Sparrow is no one to play games with… unless ye like losin’.”

“What’s this?” Gabriella gave a mocking gasp as she walked about the tall Scarlett. “The celebrated Scarlett of the docks is afraid of a challenge? ‘e’s a man like all the rest…”

“He’s Jack Sparrow, is who ‘e is,” Giselle said in reply. All eyes turned to her. “And magic follows ‘im, and make no mistake. The fool who thinks she can manipulate ‘im is gonna get what’s coming to ‘er. We’ve all been burned before. Take your chances, little strumpet. Go on then.” Giselle stood. “We’ll be ‘ere to say we told you so when ye get back. Count on it.”

Magic follows him. It was true, but Giselle had just heard a talk of new magic that had found its way into the Caribbean. A new pirate hunter was on the prowl from out of Port Royal and according to a few deserters, this one was cunning and cruel. Where Norrington had been relentless and daring, the Captain Booth was merciless and vindictive. And he had some strange control of the wind and the waves that put the advantage to his side.

And rumor had it that he had set his sights on the Black Pearl. Now Giselle had to wonder how much she truly hated Jack Sparrow to keep this news from his ears. She could just hope that some other source would bring him the story she had been told.

But no, she knew, she had to tell Jack. She didn’t owe him a thing, and still she knew that she had to give him this warning.

“But there again, little miss Gabriella,” Giselle said as she stood and walked to the younger girl. “Mayhaps ye be needing to meet the Captain o’ the Black Pearl. I’ll make the introductions.”

“And why?” Gabriella’s eyes narrowed skeptically.

“’cuz seein’ is believing, little miss,” Giselle replied. And she did want to see Jack Sparrow again.

****  
~*~

_My Jamie won’t be too pleased with my missing dinner; especially since he asked me most kindly to be back for it. I know he bought a fine roasting chicken and had a lovely supper for two planned. That had sparked my curiosity, mate. A little work on my part had brought me nothing in the way of information as to the occasion. However, it must be important. James never makes such scrupulous plans for no apparent reason._

_However, my absence at dinner was unforeseeable, mate. And I know that he will never believe it of me that I had a need to visit a wench._  
~*~

The girl Gabriella had found Jack not far from the house of Madame Colette, a place where he had sufficiently worn out his welcome. He had not intended to give the young harlot the time of day if it had not been for the name she had dropped.

“Giselle told me to tell you that all is forgiven and she needs your ear for a minute.”

“Giselle forgives me?” Jack had smiled at the girl. “You’ll have to excuse my incredulity, little miss. I find that hard to believe as darlin’ Giselle has a long memory and a decent right cross.”

“I call it right peculiar, Cap’n,” Gibbs had said. “Never trust a woman. Probably some cursed trap. Females are just plain bad luck.”

Jack raised a finger towards Gibbs to hush him. “Ah, but that be on the seas, mate. This would be dry land.” He pointed his finger down to the dirt street of Tortuga’s main thoroughfare. Gibbs said nothing but look a little nonplussed.

In that way, Jack had talked himself into following the surly little wench to satisfy his curiosity, but he motioned for Gibbs to follow. If it was some sort of a trap, he wanted a good hand at his side… or a ‘good enough’ hand at the least.

They followed her to the Bonny Blue Breeches, a smaller tavern a little further out from the main square and some ways from the docks. Inside the small tavern was rank with the smell of smoke and spilled liquor. That made it no different than most Tortuga establishments. What did make it different was the quiet. Here there were no boisterous games and shouted insults. The clientele came here on their last legs of drunken stupor. Many a drooling head lay on the stained wood of the bar and on filthy tables. Many more looked about dazed and a little green. A few men even bent beneath the tables they sat at to vomit, long and loud.

Jack raised an eyebrow at a man who just barely missed his boots with the contents of his stomach. His nose twitched slightly in disgust, but he took his hand off the hilt of his sword and turned away.

“A nice quiet place for talkin’ she says,” Jack murmured.

The girl led them back to a room separated by only a curtain. The room had one round table able to seat six. Unlike the table in the common room, this one was clean and in good repair. This was obviously a ‘private party’ room for those who could pay for a touch nicer surroundings. On one of the sturdy wooden chairs sat Giselle.

Jack once promised Giselle that she was his favorite girl and told her that he would bring her presents of fine gold and diamonds once he got his Pearl back. He had done that because she had been the only wench in Tortuga who had said, “Poor baby,” when he had told her of the mutiny that had deprived him of his ship. The others had just laughed and offered to let him forget his woes for the evening. She had at least made some sort of sympathetic noise.

Regardless, he had not been entirely square with her. And when she had struck him that first time, he knew that he most likely deserved it. The fact that she was sitting before him with a quiet, sad look on her overly painted face was a little unnerving.

“’ello, Jack,” she said.

“’ello, luv,” Jack replied with a quick and easy smile. “You look stunning as always.”

“No need to sweet talk, Cap’n,” she said. “We all know you put yourself out of the market.”

Jack’s smile did not look less nervous by any stretch.


	2. The Knot

  
The girl, Gabriella, sat herself down next to him and leaned in close. “No one told me,” she said with a saucy smile. Her fingers walked up his coat lapel and twined into a lock of his long hair.

“I am telling you now,” said a hard, authoritative voice. The curtain had swung aside with an angry snap, and Jack turned to look as Giselle gasped, her eyes wide.

James came into the room, and the sheer power of his presence dominated the whole atmosphere, making the girl Gabriella snatch back her hand and pull away from Jack as if he was poison. Giselle just stared up at the man.

James had two more sailors with him, but they stayed back, just short of entering the room. Gibbs looked about at all the occupants with a look of grim anticipation.

“’ello my James,” Jack said, breaking the silence and actually daring to look relieved.

James said nothing as he advanced further in the room looking about.

“So this be the pirate hunter?” Giselle said in soft awe. “He’s a beauty, alright. Like them tigers from the Orient are beautiful, but they’d kill ya all the same.”

“James?” Jack stood up next to him. “This lovely lass is Giselle, an old friend. Said she needed my ear for something important, and I thought I ought not to dismiss a lady…”

James turned a stony gaze on him and Jack closed his mouth quickly.

“’e’s telling you no lies,” Giselle said. “Exceptin’ about me being a lady,” she snorted. “You see, sir, There is a new pirate hunter, they say.”

Jack turned to give Giselle his full attention.

“’e’s after the Pearl and its cap’n,” she continued.

“He’ll have to catch us first, luv,” Jack replied confidently as he turned himself to give Giselle his full regard.

“’e will, Jack,” she said smoothly. “This be what the salts are sayin’. They say ‘e has something. They say it’s powerful… full of the voodoo. They say he can control the winds and the waves.”

“My dear lady,” James said in a respectful but stern tone. “You believe the tales of superstitious pirates?”

Giselle stood and looked James dead-on with a fierce gaze. “Aye, sir. I do. I’ve heard the tales and I believe them… as should you. They also say that the Black Pearl is a charmed ship and its cap’n and crew are immortal.”

Jack looked at James and found James looking back at him with an intense, understanding frown. Who were they to deny fantastic rumors?

“Miss Giselle,” James said in a kinder, more respectful tone. “What is it that the old salts say this man has?”

“They call him Cap’n Booth of the Royal Navy, and they say he has this ‘ere rope, you see…”  
****

Jack placed a dirty forefinger down on the page of the Dragon Book.

“Right ‘ere, luv,” he said. James came to look over his shoulder. The book’s age browned pages showed a picture of an old crone holding a rope with three knots.

“It’s called the sea witch’s rope,” Jack said. His finger ran along the Old Persian cuneiform script that had Cantonese notes place neatly in the margins.

“You think this object is that which your friend, Giselle, was told of?”

“Aye, it would fit the description,” Jack said. “It says here that this rope can be tied into three knots, into each of these knots holds the power to control the waves. Pull one knot and ye have a calm sea. Pull two and you can expect a gale.”

“And if you pull the third?” James asked.

Jack looked at James. “’Tai fung.’ That’s Cantonese for hurricane.”  
****

Every sailor aboard the HMS Stalwart had heard the story of the fall of Commodore Norrington , the former military commander of Jamaica’s Port Royal. It was this, and the aftershocks of the defeat of the East India Company fleet that had cause the swift reassignment of several vessels to the Caribbean. The Admiralty must have felt a certain slipping of control that if broadcast to foreign enemy could cause almost certain confrontation to test their strength.

It was a shame, really. And part of the problem stemmed with the ties of the Crown’s fleet to the merchant interest of the EIC. It was as if a segment of the Royal Navy was under the exclusive control by a faction of the House of Lords. Certainly the EIC fleet and the Royal Navy were desperately entangled in ways that made the sorting complex. Ships could be of one command one day and of a new command the next, as according to the needs and invested interest of the Company. And, as the Company’s wealth was the nation’s wealth, no one felt the need to remove the infringement.

It was with this knowledge in mind that the captain of the Stalwart entered the chambers of Admiral Rodney in the newly constructed Fort George in Montego Bay. He arrived with four other ships’ captains, seasoned warriors all. Captain David Wilberforce Booth of the Stalwart was obviously the least experienced, but he was certainly not the youngest. In fact, he was embarrassingly not the youngest.

Booth was certainly not old for his command, but he was acutely aware of how the years had slipped past while he had served as a senior officer, never advancing as many of those in his peer group of officers had. His being overlooked many times for promotion stemmed somewhat on the fact he had made a slight miscalculation.

Booth was ambitious, and he was certainly willing to take any avenue his ambition suggested to him. So when the opportunity came for him to take a position as a first lieutenant under Commodore Stolly of east Africa, a man who’s rich and well-connected cousin Booth had been courting at that time, Booth didn’t consider it twice. He took the position, hoping that some feeling of fraternity would help escalate his situation. Instead, he was held under the thumb of the thickest commander Booth had ever encountered.

But that was the past. Booth was a captain now and well rid of Stolly. However, he was seen as a late bloomer to his rank. Two of the men who walked in the chambers before him were more than five years his junior.

Captain Booth took his place among the other captains, before the admiral’s dark wood desk. Admiral Rodney did not stand to greet them. He was a sallow faced fellow with a long nose and large round eyes. He hardly looked like a war hero and yet his list of accomplishments against the French in the Caribbean was near legendary. He was only stationed for a short time in Montego to fill the void of power left by the disastrous campaign against piracy by the EIC that left the governor of Jamaica dead and the region on the verge of lawlessness.

Admiral Rodney regarded them, steepling his fingers before his mouth. He waited for them to settle in place before him at attention. He spoke in a hushed tone, lowering his hands slowly. He didn’t start with formalities of introductions or preambles. He got straight to the point.

“Gentlemen, you are here to help stop the disintegration of law and order in this crucial region of the king’s empire. I know that you are all very aware of how important it is that the crown shows no weakness in any of the outer territories. This territory is no different.

“We have been beset, gentlemen, by disorder and defiance. Pirates make free in these waters, emboldened by the victory they took over an inexperienced and overly ambitious entrepreneur acting as a naval leader in this vital area of the empire. The loss of the crown’s appointed governor of the region a few years back has left these colonies demoralized. Even now, in Port Royal, anarchy is taking its grip and spreading like a disease.”

The admiral rose from his seat to slowly advance about his desk, his hands tucked neatly behind him. He was shorter than Booth expected.

“Gentlemen, I need not tell you of the magnitude of responsibility placed before you. I presume that your rank provides testimony to your intelligence. Your orders are simply stated, but are by no means simply accomplished. You are to restore order. Bring these pirate fiends to justice. The man who accomplishes the most victories over these brigands can expect to be named the new commander of Fort Charles with a promotion to commodore and military command of Jamaica.”

That was all Booth needed to know. The rest of the Admiral’s address was meaningless noise in his ears; background sounds to his own racing thoughts. He needed to get back to his ship and examine the current warrants.  
Booth suppressed a smile as he thought. Hurricane season was coming a little early to these waters this year.  
****


	3. More than Pirates

~*~  
 _Even the immortal can be killed Calypso had cautioned me. A long life filled with so many near misses has cautioned me as well. But nigh well my James’ short stint with death, I know he has not that same restraint yet in his soul._

_He speaks like a man facing duty, as is his nature._

  
~*~

“We should seek to confront Captain Booth.”

Jack kept his gaze on the horizon and his hand on the wheel of the Pearl. “I have a sneakin’ suspicion that we need not do much seeking at’all. This Captain Booth supposedly be itchin’ to try us, James. Shouldn’t we just make ourselves conspicuous?”

James didn’t answer and Jack turned to look at him. James was wearing an all too angry frown.

“Now what did I do, sweetling?” he asked. James still said nothing, but looked ahead of himself, his jaw working tightly. Jack took a guess. “This little fit of pique be courtesy of the very notion of performing an open act of piracy, is it not? Really James, I was presuming we were all square on this count.”

“I do not know that I can ever be ‘square’ with cutthroat, bloodlust and treachery,” James said in a soft but tight voice.

“I am WOUNDED!” Jack looked to his mate with naked disapproval. “There’s not a single scallywag on this ship that be anything other than a greedy, thievin’ blighter. I don’t care for the murderous sort. They can get too ambitious.”

James rolled his eyes briefly.

“What would you have me do?” Jack asked, looking James over matter-of-factly.

“I would not have you sack some harbor town, nor would I have you bear down on some merchant ship on the Windward Passage.”

“I don’t want to be castin’ aspersion on you luv, but you may not ‘ave noticed that you’ve left this pirate ship with little to no options. One might even think you mayhap forgotten you are on a…” And here Jack leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “…a pirate ship.”

“We are much more than that now, Jack,” James replied.

“Aye, you know that and I know that,” Jack said, “But I doubt any of them Navy toffs know that. And that, James my luv, be to our advantage.” He looked at James, who only scowled back in return.

“This would be still about dinner, isn’t?” Jack muttered.

James closed his eyes briefly and growled soft yet menacingly. Jack silently withdrew the question with a nervous smile and hands raised in supplication.

“Aawk! A pirate’s life for me!” Cotton’s parrot called loudly as Cotton approached the helm.

“Aye then, Mr. Cotton,” Jack said with authority. “Take the watch.”

“Jack,” James said calling his attention back to his conversation.

“Pickin’ fights with Royal Navy vessels be a little on the daft side… even for me.” Jack said. “We can bring the fight to us and have the upper hand. Once the opportune moment presents itself…”

“The opportune moment… Jack, I cannot condone piracy. I…”

“Wait, luv,” Jack interrupted James mid tirade. “What do you know about this Booth swab? You ever cross paths, being both in the royal navy, as it were?”

James stopped and thought. “There was a Booth I knew when I was a first lieutenant under Captain Ridgley. That was before I came over on the Dauntless. Unremarkable as officers go. I believe he served under a man named Stolly who was renowned for being an absolute ninny. “

“And that one, Stolly, was a commanding officer?” Jack asked.

“A political commission and unfortunate. It happens from time to time,” James replied thoughtfully. “I think he was a commodore before he died in some freak storm off the coast of West Africa.”

“Freak storm, says you?” Jack asked.

“Totally out of season,” James continued. “It was April, if I recall…”

“I smell a cheat,” Jack said pointedly, prodding James with three dirty fingers.

James gave Jack a small double take. “You are suggesting that the rope was used…”

“Conjecture, to be sure. But if I was a lieutenant stuck under a ninny and I just happened to possess said item…”

“But how would he control it with such precision?” James asked.

“The rope produced the storm. The lieutenant produced the push.” Jack suggested with a small flourish. “Storms have covered worse crimes at sea.”

“Assuredly.”

“The ship comes back to port. His commander is mourned, he’s promoted and bob’s your uncle.”

“A clean plot.” James said dryly. “And absolute balderdash. This isn’t just simple conjecture Jack. We are talking about treason and murder without proof. We don’t even know if it is the same Booth.”

“Then what say you to finding out?” Jack asked.

“Just how would we do that?” James’ eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Jack knew that James knew Jack too well. Jack’s only hope was that James would not hear that sly, wheedling tone creeping into his voice.

“Just what preposterous notion is brewing in that thick head of yours?” James crossed his arms over his chest as his glare turned flinty. 

~*~

_The plan was quiet simple: We drop my Jamie off at Port Royal, on the leeward side of course. He goes into town to Mr. Brown’s forge, that being a place where one could pick up Fort Charles gossip without stepping foot in the fort, and also Elizabeth could see to his protection. She was, after all, the one person keeping that drunkin’ bastard Brown afloat with her da’s money and the good name of Swann. James would learn all he could about Booth; then catch a merchant ship out to Tortuga where we would rendezvous._

_And where would the_ Pearl _be, you ask? Well, now that would be delicate matter, to be sure. One might see her on the Windward Passage closer to Cuba. But that be purely rumor._

_Certainly five days’ time should bag us lovely frigate, full and lumbering towards Jamaica with goods to barter for rum, sugar cane and molasses. If we are lucky, it’ll be some fat Spanish galleon, too bloated to move. The_ Pearl _would dance around her until all she could do is strike her colors._

_Not that that would what be happening, beings this be all rumors and whatnot._

_~*~_

_The Pearl_ dropped anchor just beyond the southern point at an hour before dawn. Jack was not awake, and James didn’t even try to wake him. He felt it would be best that he just see this thing through despite the fact that he knew it was a ruse to keep him away from _the Pearl_ while Jack went forward with his original plan of making them more “conspicuous.” Other than the fact that Jack was not a morning person, James had no patient for hearing any more of the rubbish that would ensue from Jack’s lips. He’d had enough. 

Instead, James made ready for the day, washing up and shaving well. He did not put on his usual tattered admiral’s top coat, but instead a much more respectable brown top coat that probably once was owned by some hapless tradesman who ran afoul of the barbarous merchants in Tortuga. There were only a few faded stains about the cuffs and the hem. Due to the coat’s color and the fading with age, one could not tell if the stains had been blood or mud or food. James carefully brushed through his hair and tied it back with his black ribbon.

Then, fully clothed to look as nondescript as possible, James went to the bedside where Jack lay, snoring softly. He took The Compass that he normally carried now for Jack and laid it on the pillow next to Jack’s head as he leaned down to kiss Jack tenderly on the temple. James then quietly slipped out of the chamber, leaving Jack sleeping. His boat was launched and away before Jack’s eyes opened to the new day.

He knew that Jack would worry since he had left The Compass behind; so he had left a note under its lid. The note simply said: “I love you. Five days. Tortuga.” He hoped it would be enough.

~*~

_I am the true imbecile in this relationship. I know I have sworn to trust him, but I know him far too well. I trust him to be untrustworthy. I know he will simply stand upon the technicality that he never agreed to not resort to open piracy in my absence. Instead he danced about the topic with finer verbal flexibility than has yet been seen in any English court._

_So now here I am stepping into Port Royal once more, and I must say, it has gone to the dogs._

_~*~_

A pack of wild dogs crossed the muddy, wheel rutted street before James as he picked his way through the filth. A drunken man belched as he sat on a barrel in front of what had used to been the store front of a reputable shoe maker’s shop. The shop was now abandoned and boards covered broken glass windows that had been destroyed over three years back when the Black Pearl had first visited Port Royal. James recalled that the shoemaker and his wife had both been killed in that sacking. It made him pause with remorse over his inability to protect those good people.

Port Royal did not look the same. The streets had been cleaner when he had been its military commander. The people had been cleaner. Now all was dust and decay and mud… so much mud.

The crown had moved the governor’s seat to Montego Bay, and when that move had happened, so did the move of almost all of Port Royal’s polite society. Little was left but the fort and what few officers and marines that were stationed there and the few stalwart, legitimate businesses that could cater to the fort. Mr. Brown’s smithy was one such business.

James entered the workshop, stepping down to the dirty floor. The small gray donkey that ran the bellows was currently taking her luncheon with a meal sack strapped to her head. Mr. Brown sat in his old chair, snoozing off his mid-morning drunk. 

“This has not changed,” James said softly.

The door opened behind him and James turned to see a woman enter, burdened with a wicker basket. She didn’t look up as she pushed in with her load, but came briskly down the stair and past him.

“Good day, sir. I’ll be with you shortly,” Elizabeth said in a brisk, no nonsense tone as she went to set down her basket. “I’m sorry no one was here to attend you. Mr. Brown is old and fatigued, but I’m sure I can help you find what you seek…”

“Elizabeth?” James called out to catch her full attention.

Elizabeth Turner looked up with a mildly pleased and surprised expression as she recognized the voice that had just spoke her name. She smiled.

“James,” she said. She walked to him with her arms open. James went to her, taking her hands in his. “I hadn’t expected to see you,” she said.

James kissed one of her small, calloused hands. “You are as radiant as ever, Elizabeth. It is wonderful to see you well. But I must ask why do you stay here? There is nothing left for you here.”

Elizabeth sighed looking over at Mr. Brown, still snoozing on his chair. “Will asked me to take care of him. He has no family and he took Will in when he had none. He was not a perfect caretaker, but he was there. Will always appreciated that.”

“There is much to be said for that,” James admitted.

“And where is Jack?” Elizabeth took a peek over James’ shoulder as if she expected the pirate captain to make a sudden and dramatic entrance.

“He is on _the_ _Pearl_ and half way to causing mayhem by now. He dropped me here because he could not stand to hear me loudly and vigorously protest his criminal activity.”

Elizabeth giggled softly. “Calypso hasn’t been keeping you busy enough?”

“Not exactly,” James admitted. “It is on Calypso’s business that he has decided is in want of an act of piracy… my disapproval notwithstanding.”

“Poor dear,” Elizabeth laughed out softly. “Come in and sit.” She motioned to the work table that she had just sat her basket on. There was a stool just nearby.

“Can I get you some tea? It won’t take but a moment to put the kettle on. Or perhaps some rum? I know where Mr. Brown keeps his stock in the shop.”

“Just tea, thank you, Elizabeth.” James took a seat on the stool as Elizabeth push the rod holding the kettle over the forge hearth. The fire was banked but still hot enough to make the tea.

“Mayhem is what Jack makes best,” she said. “But what is Calypso’s design this time?”

James sighed and watched as Elizabeth prepared a pot to steep the tea. “We need to know about who has been stationed at the fort to take up the void in this part of Jamaica.”

“There has been a new contingent of ships recently stationed here,” Elizabeth said as she checked the kettle. “Three in all, I believe.”

“Do you know their names?” James asked.

Elizabeth stopped in thought tapping her forefinger to her chin. “ _The Stalwart, The Defender and The Valiant …_ I believe. I’ve only had custom from two.”

“I see.”

“Ruder chair repairs for the _Stalwart._ Silly thing got caught in a storm,” she said absently waving her hand dismissively as she poured the hot water with the other.

“Did you happen to hear the captain’s name?”

“Oh, of the _Stalwart_ ,” she said looking up at James. “Hmmm… Booth, yes that was it. His name was Booth. He looked about you age, do you know of him by chance?”

“Perhaps. Did you say he looked my age? Did you meet him?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said with a small frown gracing her delicate features. “Disagreeable little worm. Complained about the whole job; including the fact that he had to strike his deal with a… woman.” She lifted a tin cup from a side board. “What I would have gave to see his face if he had meant me on one of my ships with a 30 pounder long gun trained on his beady little eyes.”

“About my age you say? Dark hair, dark eyes, not very interesting?”

“I should have to say yes on all accounts,” Elizabeth replied.

“And his ship was recently in a storm?” James took the tin cup Elizabeth handed to him.

“He had just run down a sloop of rum runners in it, so I was told… north of the Windward.” She poured the tea into his cup. “Odd, I thought. There was nary a drop this past month in these parts, and usually a storm by the Windward sweeps south except in hurricane season.”

“Odd indeed,” James said. “Is the ship in port now?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth replied, giving James a sidelong glance. “What is it about this Captain Booth? What interest could he have for you… or for Jack?”

“That’s what I’m here to find out.”

****


	4. Captive

****  
He stayed no longer than until late afternoon with Elizabeth, then James headed back out on the streets of Port Royal, heading down from the main dockside thoroughfare towards the fort. He stopped in a small tavern that he once knew and occasionally visited. He remembered them well for their rather tasty stew with biscuits and he was rather peckish.

He entered the establishment noting how much more dingy it was in appearance and there was a lingering smell of burnt bread that hung in the air. He removed his modest felt tricorn as he stepped over the threshold.

The place was by no means empty, but James could remember when it was far busier with custom. Now it was inhabited by a depressing lot that sat with furrowed brows and head hung over mugs of ale or other spirits. There were three marines in a corner table, eating and talking softly among themselves. Other than that quiet buzz of conversation, no other talking could be heard. James approached the bar. The man behind it was no one he remembered.

“And what be ye haven’?” The man asked. James looked the man over considering. By the look of the dirty bar towel slung over his shoulder and the dirt beneath the fingernails that gripped the bar counter edge, James would have normally excused himself from ordering any food from this man and stuck to strong spirits. However, he had learned in his time since he first made his acquaintance with Jack Sparrow that beggars cannot be choosers and to take what he can and like it.

“Brandy,” James said. “And a plate of your hot stew.”

“Biscuits with that, sirah?”

“Yes.”

The man retrieved a glass from below the counter and pulled up a bottle. He poured James three fingers worth.

“Food’ll be out,” the man said as he re-stoppered the brandy bottle. He nodded James off towards the tables.

James ambled towards the table with the marines and sat just to the left of them, placing his hat on the table next to his drink. He settled down to listen.

“If the ship’s ready, why are we still waiting ‘ere,” one of the men said.

“I’d rather we were ‘ere,” another replied sharply. “The Cap’n has no problems with chasin a ship on the weather gage while a gale is bearin down.”

“Aye but ‘e had them with the raking fire,” The third man added. “Man is uncanny ‘e is.”

The bar keep came to James’ table, sitting down a plate of brown mush over biscuits. It looked terrible but it smelled delicious. The man moved away back to the bar and James lifted the fork stuck in the mess. He only gave it a quick cursory glance before he stuffed in the first mouth full. It was pretty decent.

“Uncanny alright, and a might daft,” the second marine complained. “It was wild chance chasin’ that sloop into that storm. We could ‘ave been killed!”

“You haven’t been with Cap’n Booth long, Roy. You don’t know how skilled he is,” The first man said. “Storms are like his element. I’ve been on the Stalwart for six months now and I know. Man can’t sail straight without a full blow on his tail.”

The three men all laughed at that.

“Still unnerving is all I’m saying,” Roy replied.

“Unnerving is staying in this pit of a town. Can’t believe this was once the seat of the royal governor.” The first man said.

“T’was only less than a few years back,” the other marine agreed.

“It’ll get better once ol’ Booth whips it into shape.” The first man said with a grin. “Mayhaps then he’ll stop glaring and grumbling at that painting of the old fort commander, Norrington.”  
James’ fork stopped midway at the mention of his name.

“Don’t know how one man could hold these waters so clear for so long then let it all go to hell so fast.” Roy sat back, picking his teeth.

“Well he’s dead, ain’t he? Can’t keep up your duty when you are dead,” The third marine said. “Besides I heard he abandoned his post after he lost his flag ship. Left to join the East India Company fleet.”

“I heard he left too, but to become a pirate!” Roy added.

“I heard both tales,” the first marine said. “And I don’t know which is true, but I do know this: before he died, pirates dare not even speak his name out loud for fear he would bear down on them. They called him the pirate hunter, a nightmare on the high seas. I think the Cap’n wants to claim that title for himself.”

James lowered his fork and wiped his mouth on his sleeve before taking a drink of his brandy.

“And he may well do it,” Roy said. “I just wish he’d do it on a clear day with calm seas.”

James had heard enough. He finished his supper but took his time with his brandy. The three marine continued to talk and gossip about this or that officer but soon stood, tossing the bar keep a sixpence. They left, but James stayed a little longer nursing his brandy for at least another fifteen minutes more before he also stood to leave. He slapped a two pence on the bar before the bar keep.

“Good even’, sirah,” the man said as James turned to the door.

~*~  
_Perhaps I should try to get closer to the fort. Booth is there and so must be the rope. From what those marines were saying, he has been actively using it. But I have to wonder why he is still here if his repairs are done and he is overdue for a patrol._  
~*~  
James’ gaze strayed ahead up the road to Fort Charles.

****  
Jack snapped the lid of The Compass shut for the umpteenth time after watching it swirl and point unerringly to the course back to Port Royal.  
“Useless,” he muttered. “Damn Norrington.”

Two days out and not a single sail on the horizon, there was nothing but calm clears seas ahead and behind.

“The horizon’s clean in all directions,” Gibbs said as he walked up to stand next to Jack. “It be like they knew we were comin’. Bad luck, says I.”

Jack thought it through. It was certainly poor chance that they hadn’t seen any ships worth running down yet, but they still had three more days. Something had to come along.  
“Might be we need to swing her about and bear a bit more northwest,” Gibbs suggested thoughtfully.

Jack blinked at him accusingly.

“Of course it be your choice, Cap’n,” Gibbs added contritely.

Jack continued to glare at Gibbs as he pulled the wheel to starboard to turn the ship northwest. They would skim Spanish waters soon, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t find a nice target still making for the Jamaica coastline.

The Pearl’s sails furled broad reach and wearing ship for the downwind run and Jack looked out ahead with a disgruntled gaze.

~*~  
_He wished this rotten luck on me, and no doubt._  
_~*~_

It was a seven hours of sailing later that Jack opened The Compass again. In his head he wished for a likely mark for booty. In his heart he wanted James, and Jack knew The Compass like to read his heart over his head. He was prepared to see it swing back towards the southward to Port Royal. Instead the Compass swung and spun, never settling. Jack’s angry glare turned alarmed.

Jack whacked the thing once with his hand and watched it. It reversed it spin and reversed again. He closed it, holding it shut with both hands. Jack closed his eyes and imagined James. In his thoughts he saw him with his dark chestnut hair tied back and his green eyes twinkling with humor as if after laying Jack low with some cutting remark, and his so very kissable lips curved in that infernal smirk. He saw him in white shirt and breeches only and his scimitar strapped to his hip, looking long and strong and sure as ever he looked, especially aboard ship. Jack saw him in his mind and in his heart. He felt his heart beat a bit faster and stronger for it. Jack opened his eyes and then opened The Compass.

The instrument spun but then stuck with determination southeast.

“That’s not the way to Port Royal.” Jack grimaced at The Compass. “It’s not even the way to Tortuga.”

****  
The ex-commander of Fort Charles knew every entrance into the main fort; even the ones that very few men and officers knew. There was a small mud closet off of the ash pit that led to the powder magazine in a blockhouse. From there, James took the short tunnel to the fort proper.

He stayed to the halls normally inhabited by the simple tradesmen and laborers who worked among the militia and naval officers. No one question him. Nevertheless, he stayed in the shadows. He slipped back to the carriage house and stables and there he discarded his top coat, tricorn and saber for a leather apron. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt to expose his fore arms and found some coal to dirty his skin up a bit. When he struck out again, he did so more at an easy pace of someone who belonged.

He passed Marines, sailors and other fort laborers and not a head turn. That was, until he reached the main hold where there were more officers and sailors and marines. But there were still laborers, and James was starting to feel more than a little anxious as each passerby double took or gave him a thoughtful frown. He was just a corridor away from the offices for the fort command when he saw why.

Apparently there had been a new addition to the fort’s inner grand hall, a tribute to the fallen Governor Weatherby Swann and the military commanders of Fort Charles.  
James looked up aghast to see himself in painted form, full formal commodore uniform complete with peruke, his medal of valor, and his Turner blade at his side. Granted the painting had been made “posthumously,” yet some artist really knew what James looked like and had captured a rather fair likeness of him.

“I see now that this was a bad idea,” James muttered up to his image. He took a single step backwards with the full intention to find the shadows again. However, he was surprised when hands slapped a grip to his shoulders and he was forcibly turned about by a pair of marines. Then he was face to face with Captain David Wilberforce Booth.

“This is interesting,” Booth said looking him over. “Either an amazing doppelganger or a lying deserter come back to the very place he should have never come back to.”

“I must protest that implication.” James straightened his stance and glared at the man although he was unable to shake the grip of the soldiers that held him in place. “I tendered my resignation to Governor Swann.”

Booth looked at him like he had grown an extra head. “You should have gone with doppelganger!”

~*~  
_He’s right: I should have pled ignorance and claimed only to have some passing resemblance. I have indeed gone balmy. It must be the rum… or Jack… Probably both. It was a daft notion to do this in the first place. I had hoped to find out Booth’s orders to see why he was not on his patrols, as the marines in the tavern said. Maybe I could even get a clue as to where he may have the rope. It had to be with him either on his ship or here on his person. One does not just leave such valuable magical tools lying about._  
_Well, at least I know it is the Booth I remember, dark hair, dark eyes, not very interesting._  
~*~

Booth had the marines clap him in irons and lead him up to the commanders’ offices. James was taken to the office he once called his own. There the marines pushed him into a chair before the oak desk. The men then stood back to either side of the chair.

The desk was clean and tidy, unlike when James had inhabited the space. The desk then had been filled with carefully stacked papers, warrant, notices and correspondence that James would work on diligently when his time in port would allow. The clean nature of the desk made James wonder just how much time did the man spend in port as opposed to at sea.  
Booth was an uninteresting looking man of roughly James’ age. Neither handsome nor homely, his cleft chin was too cleft, his brow line was too strong and his whole face was altogether too long. He looked like a petulant, brooding sour pot, even when he was trying to be pleasant.

“It astounds me that they even honored you with that portrait,” Booth said as he rounded the desk to take his seat.

“I am pleasantly surprised, I must admit,” James said. “A very good likeness.”

“An abomination,” Booth retorted. “A tribute to a deserter.”

“Again, I did not desert,” James argued back.

“You left and then you returned to serve the East India Company fleet as an admiral I think. Then you supposedly died? You are here now… not quite as dead as you led all to believe. My definition of deserter is someone who abandons his post, normally being still alive and not dead. You must see where my confusion exists.”

“Well…” James weighed his answer carefully and decided upon the truth. It was what Jack would have done in such a place. “I was dead.” James mildly shrugged.

Booth stood from his chair and approached James, his hands folded behind him.

“I think not,” he said. “I’ve heard stories told at the docks and taverns about this miserable town. The dock gossip says the infamous Black Pearl has been sailing these waters. They say that her captain has a first mate. They say that first mate has been given the moniker of ‘The Commodore’ by the ship’s buccaneer crew.”

“Fancy that,” James said lightly.

“I think ‘The Commodore’ is you.” Booth laid the accusation with clear contempt in his tone.

“My last rank was admiral. You said that yourself.”

Booth turned an acid gaze on James and James wondered if the man would strike him. Booth’s body gave a small jerk as if he had barely checked his anger. He then turned to look back at his desk.

“You are a pirate,” Booth pronounced. “I find it infinitely amusing that someone like you, having all the advantages, good birth, friends in prominent places, and the nod of the admiralty, should tumble so far to become a pirate yourself. And then there is someone like me, no money or power to back me, and doing everything the right way should have to wait so long to gain even a modicum of my due.”

“Stolly wasn’t my choice,” James said.

That was the trigger. Booth whipped around; bring his closed fist across James’ face to backhand him soundly, nearly sending him from his chair.

“Do NOT mention that fool’s name in my presence,” he hissed.

“You certainly have a problem honoring the dead,” James said softly as he straightened himself, shaking off the concussion of the blow.

An officer entered at that moment carrying a bundle. James saw that it was his belongings. The officer brought the things to Booth.

“We found these, sir,” he said as he presented it.

Booth looked it over with interest and then pulled blade from its sheath.

“Persian? Ottoman? Where does one get such a sword?”

“Clearly you’ve never been to Singapore,” James said.

Booth gave him a scathing look but then placed the sword back in its sheath. He addressed the officer.

“Tell Lieutenant Drake to get the ship ready. I want to be underway by tomorrow morning at dawn.” He then looked at James pointedly. “We are going pirate hunting with the pirate hunter.”  
****


	5. The Search

“We’ve been zigzagging the Caribbean, mates,” one of the deckhands said out loud to no one in particular. “I’m startin’ to get seasick.”

“Shut yer gob!” ordered Pintel as he passed. “Cap’n knows what ‘e’s after.”

Jack frowned as he watched the scene from under the poop deck stair. Jack knew what he was after now and it was moving at a fair clip away from Port Royal and heading for Aruba. He didn’t like it one bit.

Jack went back into the cabin, walking over to the chart on the navigation table. James was on the move, but Jack could not, for the life of him understand why he would leave Port Royal so early, or not take a ship heading at least in the general direction of Haiti, let alone Tortuga. They had been making the new course for over fifteen hours and still no sight of sail.

Jack opened The Compass again. They were on course.

“Jamie-luv,” he sighed. “What are you about this time?”

There was a knock on the cabin door then Gibbs came in, not waiting for a reply.

“I don’t like it, Jack. Nothing for miles and the winds be wrong. Ye would think it be mid-summer instead of mid spring.”

Jack looked up suddenly at Gibbs and frowned. “Aye, we should be running broad reach since we came about…”

A shout went up from on deck and Jack heard it clearly.

“Sail-HO!”  
****

~*~  
_There are many things I’ve learned from Jack Sparrow over the years. One of the first lessons he taught me is how to be duplicitous while telling the truth. Once you have set yourself in a position of being a liar and scoundrel, it is rather easy to manipulate people who think they are going to outsmart you._

_Booth asked me pointblank, where was the Black Pearl. I answered, after some reluctances for show, of course, that she was on the Windward Passage, probably making her way to the Virgin Islands. This was, invariably, the truth as I knew it. Booth gave me a very ugly little smirk and ordered his men to make a south eastwardly course towards Barbados._

_If only I had known Jack sooner in my life… I do take that back. It would not have ended well._

_Now I am sitting in the Stalwart’s brig having an interesting epiphany._  
~*~

He still had no idea where the sea witch’s rope was, but he was sure it had to be aboard this ship. They had been out to sea for only two solid days, making good time from the feel of things. James was having an interesting time as he came to terms with the idea that this was the first time he had ever been incarcerated… ever.

He had never seen the wrong side of a brig, gaol, or stocks. It had never been his pleasure to enjoy the feeling of being trapped behind iron bars. And as he sat on the meager plank that made up the bunk in the cell, the sole piece of furniture, he realized it was no less comfortable than the crowded crew birth in any navy vessel. In fact, there was the advantage of privacy, at least for now.

Recalling some of the less pleasant voyages he endured as a midshipman, he began to wonder why it had not occurred to him to cross an officer to see a few days of peace and quiet in the brig. Lost opportunities and never mind about the black marks that would have been on his record. Booth could lay testimony to the fact that a clean record does not necessarily assure one success in His Majesty’s Royal Navy. It was amazing how association with Jack Sparrow could put a new spin on one’s sense of place and honor.

James wondered where Jack was just at that moment. He closed his eyes and imagined Jack, at the wheel of the Pearl. The wind was on his back, tossing the tangle of braids, trinkets and dreadlock about his shoulders. His dark dark eyes glittering with intelligence and mischief and his lovely lips split in a wickedly delicious smile, he looked forward, always forward to chase the horizon. His lithe and strong form cutting an outrageous yet dashing and splendid picture as he held the helm one handed, ready to dare the devil himself. Then in his mental imaginings, James saw Jack lift The Compass and look at it briefly, snapping the lid shut in determination. James’ eyes shot open.

“Oh blast and damnation to hell!”

“Norrington!” an officer called down as he descended the deck stair followed by two marines. He walked up to the brig cell reaching out to the lock with a key.  
“On your feet,” he said as he opened the cell. “The Captain wants to see you.”

~*~  
_This whole venture has only proven to me that love has completely addled my brains. Now I can and must humbly apologize to William Turner. I still remember that hatchet embedded in my chart. This is what it is like to be idiotically in love… or just be an idiot that happens to be in love. Whichever, I fill the description._  
~*~

****  
Jack snapped his spyglass shut. “Merchant sloop… makin’ for the Spanish main”

“Are we runnin’ ‘er down?” a sailor asked. There was silence on the deck as Jack looked out on the western horizon.

“Jack?” Gibbs said softly.

“Hold the course,” Jack said in a stark tone. He then left the deck for the cabin.

“I thought we was out for the plunder?” Raggetti asked softly.

“Plans have changed,” Gibbs said sternly. “Back to yer work.”

“Tomorrow be day four,” Gibbs said softly to himself. “And this ain’t the way to Tortuga.”  
****

He was brought to the main cabin of the ship that he noted looked like every main cabin in every English naval vessel he had ever step foot on. Such boring precision was noteworthy, at the least and made James wonder why he hadn’t thought to add some small personal flare to his own. He could have and remained well within regulations.

Booth stood from his navigation desk.

“I have been considering your answer to me since I asked you for the bearing of the Black Pearl.”

“What is there to consider?” James asked. As he glanced about the room he noted a small round mirror, perhaps for shaving in a corner. He caught a glimpse of himself in the glass. His beard was coming in. Jack didn’t care for his beard at all.

“I must consider what you would do to cover the tracks of your pirate friends.”

“I see no pirates.” James suggested. “Just open, calm seas.”

“So do I,” Booth agreed.

“They really were on the Windward,” Booth said.

“Why would I lie,” James replied in a dry tone.

Booth approached him slowly. “You don’t seem to understand the gravity of your situation. Regardless of whether or not I gather up the Black Pearl and her pirate crew, you are a condemned man. You are going to die.” Booth walked about James, considering him like an interesting bug or a newly discovered fungus on the timbers of his ship. “Now I have the right to see to it that you die quickly, at sword point or pistol, or slowly on the noose. It is to your best interest in this venture to be forth coming with information that may sway my decision.”

“I’ve never feared death,” James said plainly. “Perhaps that is why I was successful as a pirate hunter.”

Booth grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up short. “Pirate scum… You and that ludicrous Jack Sparrow I’ve read so much about on any number of warrants, placing your filthy influence about the Caribbean. The people of that rat-bag of a town, Port Royal, talk about him as if he were some bloody seafaring Robin Hood! But he’s not and you’re not. You are just pirates… criminals and thieves.”

“Perhaps,” James said looking down his nose at the man as he held him in a bruising grip. “But you still have to capture him, don’t you. For now, all you have is one supposed deserter and a tall tale. It’ll take more than that to get the promotion you are currently salivating for.”

Booth let him go, stepping away and folding his hands behind him as he looked contemplative.

“So will you turn to the Windward?” James asked.

Booth walked over to a side board that had a small documents chest. He opened it, pulling out a length of old gray rope that had two running knots in it. Booth pulled an end until one running knot came loose.

“I think we can afford to keep this course,” he said.  
****

The clouds were piling up on the northern horizon. Gibbs had woken Jack that morning, shaking him out of a distressing dream in which he saw James on a ship, chained to a mast, his back bared for the cat-o-nines. A man wearing the dingy blue and light gray of a common tar in the royal navy came forward with the lash. Jack wanted to stop it. He wanted to reach out and break James’ bonds. He wanted to pull the sailor away and land a square punch on the man’s block-like jaw, but Jack couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t scream and he couldn’t even wake up. When Gibbs shook him awake he came up swinging. Gibbs barely ducked back out of the way.

“Storms brewin’,” Gibbs said shortly and then left the cabin to go back on deck. 

Jack looked out on the sea that was going from the bright aqua-marine he so enjoyed to a steely jade that reminded him too much of James’ eyes.  
“Should we reef the sails, Cap’n?” asked Mr. Marty. 

“Not yet,” Jack replied frowning out to the sea ahead. He opened The Compass. They were still on course and Jack wanted every bit of speed he could get until the very last minute.  
“ALL HANDS!” Jack shouted out. “Batten down the hatches and watch the courses! Be ready to pull in on my command!”

“Ye heard the orders, ye scurvy dogs!” Gibbs growl the order down the line. “Get them lines secured on the foremast. Be ready.”

****  
Booth discovered a new joy in his life, James surmised when he had him chained to the mast and flogged at dawn. Booth reckoned James’ defiance and tightlipped refusal to give up the Black Pearl’s bearings freely deserved at least two dozen lashes. 

The ship surgeon washed his back with brine, and James learned a whole new lesson on why the seasoned sailors cringed at the notion of salt in the wound. It had only been in the abstract for James until that moment. 

Now he sat on his plank in his cell in the brig. Booth stood outside the cell. 

“Do you have anything to tell me now?”

James looked up with a slightly manic smile. “I am beginning to truly understand why some men desert.”

“Cowardice,” Booth said.

“You wouldn’t see it would you,” James said. “I could try to explain it but unless you’ve been on this side of the cage, you just can’t wrap your head about it. My explanation would be useless. The best part is that I have only tasted the slightest fraction of a part of it.”

“Of what?” Booth sneered, looking away from him.

“Cruelty,” James replied. 

“You think I’ve been cruel?” Booth said. 

“Perhaps not in your view,” James admitted. “It’s easy to believe that another man’s skin is thicker than one’s own.”

“I did not believe for a moment that your skin grew thicker the day you decided to become a pirate. You deserved that flogging for all its pain,” said Booth. “I need the position of the Black Pearl. I need to know where it will make berth. You have lied enough to me.”

“I didn’t lie,” James insisted. 

“Perhaps not at first, but now you are too eager for me to head towards the Windward Passage. It makes me wonder what you may know of the Black Pearl’s intended destination.”

“Tortuga,” James replied flatly. It was true. Today was supposed to be the day the Pearl made port in Tortuga. It was the day he was to rendezvous with Jack. Now he sat in the brig of a ship that was at least a day out from Barbados, and James strangely knew in his heart that the Black Pearl was bearing down fast. 

Booth gave a contemptuous snort, turned and stalked away. 

The sea was growing harsh. James could feel it in the creaking timbers of the ship. Booth was driving them before a gale. James knew that Jack was not far behind and there was nothing he could do about it.  
****


	6. The Gale

~*~  
_If I find that someone truly ordered my James to be flogged, I swear to you, mate, no quarter. I’m not normally a violent man except when me and mine be threatened. James be on a ship dead ahead, and I can feel it in me gut that he’s in danger. I haven’t time for trifles._

 _I see the crew looking over their shoulders at that line of black come upon us, and I think they need to remember that we are the Black Pearl, a ship charmed by Calypso herself. I’ll have none of this belly aching about riding a gale. We have a ship to catch and an ex-commodore to rescue, thank you very much._  
~*~

Jack was scanning the seas ahead with his spyglass and caught sight of the ship on the horizon just seconds before the call went out from the crow’s nest.

“Sail HO!”

Jack opened The Compass and watched the arrow point directly to the ship that was just a smudge on the horizon ahead. Gibbs came up beside him.

“This gale, it be unnatural. It’s been at our tail for hours no, drivin’ but not overtakin’.”

“Aye, t’is not natural, to be sure. All the more reason to believe that there be the ship.”

“You say Norrington be on that ship ahead?” Gibbs looked at him incredulously. “How can ye be sure?”

Jack looked down at The Compass again. “I just know.” He closed the instrument with a sharp snap. “Draw out the long nines!” he commanded.

Gibbs hurried forward to relay the command, growling curses at the men as the moved to obey.

“Run up the colors and prepare to reef the top sail!” Jack shouted forward. They were bearing down on the ship, and the Black Pearl was the fastest ship in the Caribbean. Jack could tell by the speed they were making that they would run alongside in probably a little more than an hour. He also could lay money on the fact that that would be when that curious little storm would break over them all.

“Aye my sweetling, what have you manage to get yourself into,” he whispered to the sea ahead. Jack turned looking about himself as he watched all hands moving with haste to ready the ship. He looked up the main mast to see the Jolly Roger rising into place. He then looked to the northwest.

~*~  
_No storm should be moving down on us from there. This storm’s enchanted, to be sure. My Jamie has found the rope, and mayhaps I hadn’t thought through me little plan all too well. I should have known my James better._

  
_I spoke of his nature to face his duty. In his eyes, capturing the rope was his duty, and I set him down in the thick of it while I ran off to re-live the glory days, mate. Mores the fool be I._  
~*~

****  
Booth had James brought up on deck. Booth stood to the aft, looking out on the northwest horizon. The sky was darker than was natural, and it made James shiver at the sight. That was the black of a storm, uglier and more powerful than even the one that sunk the Dauntless. Booth watched it with his hands clasped behind him. In them, he held the rope.

  
“Do you see it?” Booth asked as James came to stand next to him.

“The storm? One would have to be more than blind to miss it,” James replied.

“No,” Booth chuckled and waved one of his men to hand James a spyglass.

James looked at Booth guardedly as he took it, but he extended it and scanned the wave. Then he saw her, the Black Pearl. She was skimming the waves with speed.

~*~  
_No, Jack!_  
~*~

“I believe she means to run us down,” Booth said amused. “The Windward Passage? Tortuga? You tried to protect your friends, but I fear those efforts were for naught.”  
James lowered the spyglass. There was no use trying to deny what ship followed them. Booth was right and it was plain to see that the Black Pearl was gaining on the Stalwart, which was a larger and slower galleon. James gathered that at current speed, she would be upon them within the hour.

“You will have the pleasure of watching the new pirate hunter of these waters bring down one of the greatest pirate threats know to still sail,” Booth said as he crooked a finger towards one of the sailors nearby. “Have Mr. Norrington secured to the mast. We wouldn’t want our prisoner washed overboard.”

Booth pointedly held out the rope for James to see and pulled the last knot.

****  
Lightening split the air almost directly over the Pearl’s main mast. The crack of the thunder was near deafening. The wind that had driven them was now more than a gale and Jack shouted to his almost frantic looking crew.

“Reef all sails except the mizzen. Pull the lines secure about the courses. Remember who you are! Remember which ship you sail!”

The wind was at full force driving the waves to break over the sides. The men on the ratlines clung still for a moment as the Pearl sped down the trough of one wave to push back up violently. Their quarry was dead ahead. Jack could see now that it appeared to be a naval frigate.

The storm was breaking over them now, but there was no rain yet. However the spray and the mist from the breakers was more than enough to soak the whole crew through. Lightning struck again off the starboard side like crooked witch’s fingers of light reaching for them. They would come alongside the navy brig soon, but this would be a rocky battle in such seas.  
Jack’s first concern was reminding his crew that they could not lose. “Pull out the forward guns! I want the powder dry and ready to fire as soon as we have the range. Move ye scabby bilge rats, afore Calypso decides yer to coward to waste immortality on!”

Jack watched the group of men he had just bellowed at blink in sudden understanding; then redouble their efforts while affecting a more ferocious piratical type of posture in doing so. That was the key: remind them that they were immortal.

“But the immortal still can be killed. So you mind you ways, witty Jack!” Calypso had told him in a dream, which seemed to be her new preferred method of direct communication. Jack had come to understand during that dream that there was a level of disemboweled or decapitated that an immortal can experience that would end said immortality. Nevertheless, Jack was sure that a little wetting in a spring storm was not going to give even a single member of the Pearl’s crew a sniffle.

“Move you sea dogs! Or has eternal life made ye soft like babes and fancy boys? I know whores back in Tortuga with more salt!”

They were upon the vessel now, Jack could see the gold embossed letters of the ship’s name across the stern: HMS Stalwart.

“Fire the forward nines!” Jack commanded.

He heard Gibbs some ways up from him relay the call from over the wind and waves. From there it took only a minute before Jack heard the first cannon roar.

****  
“The ship is firing,” One of Booth’s lieutenants remarked, looking back astern over the port side. The Black Pearl was nearly upon then.

James knew these first shots were more for gaining the guns bearings, and in this weather, every shot was almost likely doomed to fail. Making aim in a turbulent sea was tricky and near unworkable. But James knew why Jack was firing. James could feel Jack’s desperation in his own bones. He could nearly taste his apprehension, anger and fear. Jack knew, somehow he knew that James was in mortal danger.

James closed his eyes, seeing Jack’s kohl ringed, ebony eyes in his mind. “Keep to the Code,” James whispered fervently against the rough pine of the mast. He heard a man call down what was a relay of orders for the Stalwart’s guns to ready to return volley. Waves were breaking over the rails of the prow of the ship but the Stalwart’s sails were all reefed for the storm.  
“I can’t reckon what they think they’ll gain by pickin’ this fight.” Another man said that must have stood close by.

James opened his eyes. It was unusual. Any other pirate ship, seeing a ship of the line in their firing sights during a full gale would have turned and ran. There was no profit in attacking a ship armed to the teeth when one can’t even have a weather advantage. Booth must think Jack is stupid or daft, or both… Well, that was no more than what he ever tried to convince any other royal navy commander.

He watched as marines stood, lined in rows towards the port, muskets and bayonets at the ready for the boarding that they knew would come after the volley of cannon fire had done their worst.

“Keep to the Code, Jack,” James hissed between clenched teeth.

****  
He felt him, beckoning him to do right by him and the crew. Keep to the Code. Jack remembered when he taught James all of the Code. He had been mildly surprised by how much of it James already knew. Of course it made sense, he being the pirate hunter an all. One just can’t go about being good at hunting a particular prey unless one is knowledgeable about his quarry. Pirates were not all a simple lot. That was the first mistake most made about them. James had taught Jack about assumptions.

“Ass out of U and Me,” Jack whispered to the wind. Jack would not and could not leave James to his fate on that ship. “Worth dyin’ for,” he added and he knew James had heard him. “And everyone knows they’re more like guidelines anyway,” he added just in case.

~*~  
_Tia, darlin’, we may be needin’ a bit o’ magic of the sea to counter act this enchantment. I hope you be hearin’ me. This here’s the quest you set us on, an’ this be the first item we found. I can honestly say, the bastard who’s found it be abusing the power to ‘is own personal gain. Consequently, he’s our lawful prey._

  
_This storm could do us powerful damage, to be sure, but I trust in your supremacy, Tia Dalma, Calypso, unchained goddess and empress of the deep. I just need to find the bastard using the rope… and my James._  
~*~

At that moment, they pulled abreast to the Navy brig. The cannon fire roared again. The battle was fully engaged.

“Reef the mizzen headsails and bring all cannons t’bear!” Jack ordered.

The Pearls cannons let off a deafening volley and Jack saw smoke and splinters fly in the wind driven rain that came down like a million little hammers, pounding the timbers of both ships. Their distance was deadly. One rouge wave could viciously slap the two ships together at any moment, but Jack put his trust in Calypso.

“Ready the men on the gunwale!” Jack called down. “”Send over the grappling hooks!”

He watched as Mr. Marty assembled a line of men with hooks and lines at the ready. They spaced themselves along the main deck rail. Each man began his wind-up. In moments the first ropes flew, the wind knocking them more southward than there mark. Most fell to the sides and the sea below. Those were quickly reeled in while the ones that stuck were secured. Jack heard the sounds of musket fire and saw the wood rail splinter near one of the grapple-men.

“Easy mate,” Jack said softly as he watched the man duck for cover. Jack drew his own cutlass and headed for the gunwale. It was time to save his James.

It was not lost on him that he had started this fight with a Navy ship, and he would have to finish it in some way that would be satisfactory to all concerned. He could not imagine James being pleased with the notion of no quarter, regardless of how he had been treated by his captors. This was a tricky situation, to be sure. However, considering the power of the rope, it was necessary to run it down and secure it.

The men were starting to board, throwing themselves into the wind and gliding over to land amidst soaked marines, most of whom had guns and powder too wet to be of great use. That was fine for the crew of the Black Pearl. They joined their enemy on deck with swords drawn.

As Jack stood on the gunwale, he saw the damage the Pearl had given the sturdy navy brig. It had been better than he had hoped. He took the first available rope and swung out without a second thought landing squarely before two marines prepared to skewer him on bayonets.

“Awwakk! Shiver me timbers!” The scream of cottons parrot informed him that he was not alone. Jack dove in to the fray followed by Cotton and Gibbs.

****  
In the melee of growling attacking Pirates and defending marines on a slippery, soaked deck, James had an excellent view. He was surprised when a pirate, ducked under a combatant, losing his opponent in the fracas, and approached James.

“Sir! Cap’n Sparrow said you’d be on this ship!”

“Mr. Murtogg,” James said with composed authority. “Perhaps you could see clear to finding a way to release me from these irons?”

“Aye, sir.” The man said and looked about franticly. At a loss for any other tool, he tried the end of the cutlass he currently held against where the irons were bolted to the pine wood.  
“It was uncanny, sir,” Murtogg continued as he tried to find leverage. “The cap’n just knew you were here and he was willing to burn down hell to get you back.”

“Yes, I know,” James said quietly. He was sure Murtogg had not heard him over the wind and the ruckus of battle. James looked about the deck, scanning the chaos. He knew Jack was out there. Unfortunately, the only face he found was Booth’s and he was heading for them.

Booth came up from behind Murtogg even as the man was still speaking. “Cap’n not about to withdraw until he has you back safe.”

“Mr Murtogg!” James shouted a warning, but it was too late. He watched as Murtoggs eye grew wide in shock as Booth’s sword appeared, bloody through the chest of his shirt.

“Oh,” Murtogg gasped, looking down at the sword that skewered him. “Sorry about that sir.” He said in a strained voice before he fell forward off Booth’s sword to lie still on the deck.  
Booth looked down briefly at the man in disgust and then back at James. “Not withdraw without you?” Booth brought his bloodied sword up until the point rested under James’ chin. “That’s an interesting thing. Why are you such a prize? And I must wonder how much is he willing to give for that prize?”

“You!”

James knew that growl. Jack’s voice was surprisingly low and commanding for his height and stature. Jack stood fierce in the wind driven mist and rain, pointing his sword in challenge at Booth.

~*~  
_How much is he willing to give? I imagine we are about to find out presently._  
~*~

“Jack Sparrow, I presume,” Booth called back over the wind.

“Captain Sparrow to you,” Jack replied with a menacing smile. “Why don’t you leave unarmed chained men alone and come and fight me for a bit?”

“I don’t know, Captain Sparrow,” Booth said. “It seems to me that by threatening this unarmed chained man, I’ve already bested you.”

Jack only looked more deadly at that moment and James saw the pure murder brewing in his dark eyes. Jack didn’t care to have other lives than his own thrown at him as threats. It meant that his antagonist either didn’t know him or they knew him all too well. In this case, James knew, it was an unfortunate leap of logic.

“What’s it that ye be wantin’ then?” Jack asked. “If ye want me and me ship to surrender, you’ll not have that at any price, mate.”

Booth’s sword tip lifted James’ jaw, pressing in and coming very very close to breaking skin. “I have to wonder what it is that makes Mr. James Norrington so special to you.”

“’im?” Jack said in a carefully blasé voice. “That’s easy, mate. Information. That one’s chock full ‘o it. Handy to a buccaneer like meself, savvy.”

“Handy?” Booth sneered. “And here I thought it was mere chance that we managed to cross paths with the Black Pearl . This was a trap from the first, with your agent on board to give me misdirection.”

“You’re readin’ far too much into this, mate,” Jack replied.

“Am I?” Booth replied, plying the blade against James’ throat firmly.

“Now I admit, there may be a price I can give, but first things first, mate,” Jack said.

“What’s that, pirate,” Booth growled.

“Me and mine ‘ave taken your little ship, as it were,” Jack gestured about him where it was clear that there were simply more pirates than soldiers bearing arms, and most of those held their weapons threateningly towards knots of marines, sailors and officers who were clearly bested.

“Now I’ve a fine deal for you,” Jack continued with confidence. “You give me that bit o’ rope I know you must have on your person somewheres, and I won’t scuttle your ship with all hands.”

  
James watched a fleeting look of fear race over Booth’s wet features, making the rain dripping off his too straight nose look ludicrous over his gaping mouth. Booth had not expected Jack’s knowledge of the rope. The sword’s pressure on James’ flesh decreased, allowing James to be able to see that the place where Murtogg had fallen was empty. He looked back up and by chance his eye landed on Murtogg who stood with a group of Pirates holding prisoners at bay.

“How…” Booth closed his mouth firmly. “So if I give you what I want, you’ll let us go?” He ground out.

“Never said it like that, mate,” Jack replied cheerfully. “I said we wouldn’t scuttle the ship. Letin’ you go be a might different. “

Booth looked desperate for a moment, but James saw the moment he galvanized. He had made a decision.

“Very well,” Booth said. “But I’ll behead this traitor.”

“You really don’t want to be free, tryin’ us so,” Jack said.

“Whether you release us really has nothing to do with it at this point,” Booth said. “This traitor and deserter has earned his fate, and if we are to die, then he will be the first to go.”

Jack didn’t flinch. He didn’t waver, and yet James could practically hear him howling inside his own skin. The wind and the storm was the only noise on a silent deck filled with wet pirates and royal navy marines and sailors now that the sides were locked in standoff. It was silent for a few heartbeats longer then Jack relaxed his sword, placing it point first on deck and resting both hands on top of the hilt.

“Ok, mate,” he said reasonably. “Here’s another offer, and I think you might like it. Beings you’ve brought down to terms of Parley, we ought to play it as such, aye? You give me the rope and Norrington and I let you and your little ship go free as a bird, what say you to that?”

“I say I should never yield to such a vile pirate as yourself. I’d rather die.”

“Fatalistic bugger,” Jack said towards James. “Has an impossibly high opinion of himself, to be sure. They teach that in officer’s school then?”

James rolled his eyes.

“Right then,” Jack said addressing Booth again. “What be it that I can do for you to mollify your need to draw blood so greatly?”

Booth looked about himself with a confused look for a moment, not fully grasping that perhaps he was winning terms.

“How’s this then, you keep the rope and Norrington, secure him up and locked away for a future hangin’, as it were, and we let you go?”

“Not enough!” Booth cried out angrily. “You attack this ship and expect me to just let you get away with it?”

“Way I see it, mate, I’m giving you the best of the terms. After all, I could just go back to the original plan and scuttle the lot with you and your rope on board. I might yet, in fact.”

  
“But then you will lose your handy source of information,” Booth sneered. “I think that means something to you… he means something to you.” Booth pressed the sword up tighter to James’ throat and he felt the sharp, cold sting of it breaking his skin and then the tickle of blood rolling down the stubble on his neck.

“I see,” Jack said. “You’d be needing some prize to offset the damage to your ship?” Jack sheathed his sword and took a relaxed stance that looked out of place in the driving storm. “How’s this then, you take me, the rope and Norrington, and we let you go.”

Booth watched him warily but did not loosen his hold on James.

“I dare say you’ll get better terms than that,” Jack said. “You get your deserter and keep your rope and finally bring to justice Captain Jack Sparrow, the most wanted buccaneer on these seas… or at least one of the most wanted… certainly a catch…”

Booth held stock still, not answering.

“And that’s me final offer,” Jack added. “Reject that and we are back to scuttling the lot.”

“Then I am obliged to accept, Captain Sparrow,” Booth said.

“Good then,” Jack said cheerfully. “Now how’s about you lower that blade and stop this storm you conjured for starts.”

“No,” Booth said. “I prefer to keep my sword where it is and have your pirates withdraw from my ship. Then, if you would surrender yourself to my men, if you please, I will consider stopping the storm and lowering my sword… but not necessarily in that order.”

Jack turned back to the pirates, “Withdraw, ye scallywags. You heard the man.”

“Jack!” Gibbs called out with an obvious note of stricken concern.

“Keep to the code,” Jack replied. “Make way to the berth of our Pirate King and keep a weather eye for a red sky at night.”

Gibbs eyes narrowed in comprehension and he nodded his wet head, “Aye then. Red sky…”

“Now withdraw!” Booth shouted.

“And me men shall, with a will, but these seas be hardly easy, mate,” Jack replied. “As you must see, we have drifted on a bit. Mayhaps you stoppin’ this here gale will expedite their departure?”

Booth gave Jack a look that was somewhere between a snarl and pout, but he motioned to one of his men held at bay by pirates.

“Thompson! Get over here!”

The man broke away reluctantly, eyeing the cutlasses that hovered menacingly at him. He sidled over to his captain. Booth thrust the hilt of his sword toward the man without lowering the blade from James’ neck.

“On my word, if there is treachery, take Norrington’s head,” Booth commanded.

The man Thompson took the blade. “Aye, Captain.”

Booth reached into his pocket and pulled out the gray, frayed, old rope length again and began to deftly tie in three new running knots. The rain stopped almost immediately, but the winds died down to a gentle breeze a little more slowly. All the men stood amazed as the skies seem to magically open up to blue sky and late afternoon sunshine. It was an hour before sunset.


End file.
